


Honey Just Put Your Sweet Lips on My Lips

by AnaliseGrey



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Body Worship, Caleb is a smitten fool, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ficlet, and an utter sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:40:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: He doesn’t look up at her face, can’t right now if he wants to be able to continue. She’s radiant, skin glowing a deep sapphire in the light of the fireplace on the side of the room, and he could easily believe her a proper Goddess rather than just the woman he worships as such. But how can he say, even in the privacy of his own mind, that she’s ‘just’ anything?
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	Honey Just Put Your Sweet Lips on My Lips

Caleb doesn’t consider himself an especially religious man.

As a child, he enjoyed the festivals growing up and understood that the clerics that passed through every few months gained their power from the gods, but he never really felt a connection. He understands the concept of faith, the concept of belief. He understands believing something so strongly it defies reason, blots out rational thought and demands obeisance to it’s whim. He understands that all too well; he’s just never felt that way about the gods.

Now, he gets an inkling of what it might feel like. Not the sort of mindless obedience that was expected of him when he was young, nothing so crass or harsh.

There’s nothing so demanding about Jester.

Her skin is soft and warm under his hands, smooth but for the few scars that any adventurer picks up along the way. There’s the firmness of muscle as his hands skate up her thighs, and he knows she could easily squash him if she didn’t want him there, if she didn’t like what he’s doing. But no- she’s leaning back on a small mountain of pillows, perfectly at ease as her tail flicks on the mattress at her side, watching him as he slowly advances up her body, leaving reverent touches and presses of lips as he goes.

He doesn’t look up at her face, _can’t_ right now if he wants to be able to continue. She’s radiant, skin glowing a deep sapphire in the light of the fireplace on the side of the room, and he could easily believe her a proper Goddess rather than just the woman he worships as such. But how can he say, even in the privacy of his own mind, that she’s ‘just’ anything? If he could find the words to do her justice he’d write odes in her honor, sonnets to her beauty, line upon line of prose to exult her. If he were an artist like she is, he would draw nothing but her, sculpt her likeness and leave it everywhere so that others might know even a fraction of what she is, of _who_ she is.

He’s neither poet nor artist, though, and so must use baser means to convey what he feels, to try to express to her the wonder that despite all he’s done, despite knowing what sort of person he is, she still considers him worthy- of love, of patience, of _forgiveness_. She holds his heart, his very being in her hands, and instead of crushing it or throwing it away, she holds it as something precious, as something wonderful, and he will spend the rest of his life trying to make himself into someone worthy of that kind of trust and care.

For now, though, in the meantime, he will prove himself in other ways.

He lies on his belly on the bed between her legs, a supplicant coming to prayer, and presses a kiss to her inner thigh as she hooks her legs over his shoulders. He nuzzles his way up and inward, pressing kisses, letting his scruff scrape over the sensitive skin there, eliciting a shiver from the woman under him.

Reaching the soft join where thigh meets hip Caleb takes his time, making sure to kiss every inch, licking and nibbling as he works toward her center. He’s rewarded for his diligence in hitching breaths, the feel of quivering thighs against his shoulders. A moment later there’s the feel of fingers threading and tugging through his hair, claws gently scratching at his scalp, and he sighs, the breath puffing warm and light against her folds.

“ _Caleb-_ ” Just hearing his name from her lips is enough to make him shudder, especially when she sounds like this, her voice low, soft and sweet. She could ask him to do anything right now and he would probably do it. It’s a terrible power he’s given her, and if he trusted her any less, if there were any doubt, he’d be scared. _Terrified_. Tilting his head, he looks up her body to her face, daring, and it’s to see her looking back, expression soft and fond. His heart twists, too full of feeling to stand, but he gets a hold of it; if he trusted her less, he wouldn’t be here. If there was doubt, he couldn’t let himself do this, be vulnerable the way she lets him be. He’s safe with her, surrounded by the feel of her skin, the scent of her flooding his senses until he’s drunk with it. There’s no fear, no terror here; only the gentle sound of her delighted laughter, the sparkle of her eyes and the feel of her thighs pressing in and holding him safe. It grounds him, the press of her around him, and he wouldn’t be anywhere else for all the world.

**Author's Note:**

> So...not my normal brand, I know. But something about how soft Caleb is for Jester just gives me the warm fuzzies...


End file.
